


Death Of Our Friends

by JayWillis



Category: MCR - Fandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 12:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9180760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayWillis/pseuds/JayWillis
Summary: Oneshot book that speaks of the tragic tales of death and what happens to those who fall into its jaws. Many strangers join Bob, Frank, Ray, Mikey and Gerard in the black parade as they journey into the afterlife and welcome the nature of leaving the world they once knew.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All chapters are completely unedited

The bed creaked as hands trembled, desperately grabbing onto the sides as he tried to pull himself up, his bare arms exposed to the light as his thin figure trembled unable to support his weight. His hairless body a constant reminder of the treatments he received, his latest one reducing him to no more than skin and bones as the cells in his body fought against each other. Each one attempting to suffocate the other as the chemo spread through his veins drowning the cells it came in contact with, be that the cancerous ones or the healthy ones. It didn't matter to it for the "treatment" would take down all it could and that left him weak and frail, sprawling on the hospital floor trying to make it back to bed after a simple trip to the bathroom. Walking was a luxury he could no longer afford and he knew it, but his stubborn attitude refused to admit this fact.  As he continued to grasp at the bars of the bed he heard the click of footsteps against the tiles and the gentle creak of the hospital room door. Grateful someone was there to assist him, a nurse no doubt, he called out to them. "Do you mind helping me?" His voice was weak and trailed off as he tried to force out the words, residing to his fate he left his sentence unfinished as he gave up and collapsed to the floor. A soft laugh startled him as he saw the figure approach, black shoes and pants unlike those of a nurse. That's when he felt cold hands on his shoulders lifting him into the bed. "I'm not here to assist you Charles, I'm here to offer you a choice." The voice startled him as he surveyed his visitor with tired eyes. A black and white jacket in the style of a marching band was the most noticeable thing about him aside from the white hair and sad smile. His eyes lined with black as he pulled up a chair and leaned forward, placing a hand on the bed.  Charles attempted to move away from him but his body wouldn't allow it. Startled he tried to force out the words, "Who are you, what are you doing here and how do you know me?" But voice trembling all he managed was, "Who..." The strangers smile unnerved him as he leaned in closer. "My name was Gerard but who I was means very little. Right now all that matters is the fact that you are dying and you can feel it can't you Charles?" Gerard's smile was soft and quiet as Charles acknowledged the truth in his words. He could feel his strength fading from him his limbs going weak, bones brittle and body frail. He knew he had very little time despite what the doctors told him. Every day it was promises of "he might recover," and "the treatment is working despite it not seeming that way!" He knew there was no it was doing less harm than good all it was was false hope for him and this stranger was there to take it away from him. One who was even stranger himself, "who he was," and what his name "was," we're terms not normally used and this is what concerned him the most. However, he was willing to listen as this man appeared to offer him a way out.  So Charles smiled weakly and nodded with all his strength as the heart monitor blared and he flatlined. Nurses and doctors running past a seemingly empty chair as Charles walked away hand in hand with Gerard. A black and white marching band jacket slung over his shoulders. 


	2. Stained Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theresa a young woman finds herself dangling in the face of death and peril when a stranger appears, offering her a choice that could change her destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Chapters are Unedited

  White lights of busy highways blinded eyes in the darkness of the night as people drove the roads. The night air was almost silent aside from the cars racing past, but in that moment all other sounds ceased to exist as metal crunched against metal. Wheels spinning out of control, an intoxicated driver collided with a motorbike. Metal scraped against the pavement as tires screeched to a halt, the burning smell of rubber filling the night air as each car swerved to avoid the collision. The car laying there with its scraped up belly facing the sky as the roof caved in and the driver crawled out relatively unharmed. Blood dripped from his head as he staggered across the highway clearly intoxicated with a hand to his head and the bleeding already ceasing. The biker was not so lucky. She lay across the pavement, helmet cracked as her skin was stretched across the road, the left side of her face laying down in the pool of her blood as her skin was stripped away, muscle facing the rest of the world exposed to the dirt and pavement below. Stones sticking in her skin as metal from the car door pierced her leg and the exhaust pipe from her bike burned a hole in her suit stripping the skin from her ankles, her fingers tangled in the wheel twisting at inhuman angles, wrists snapped and back twisted.

As she lay there eyes hardly open she saw a man step out from behind a car. He was unlike all the rest around her, he wasn't looking at her bug-eyed. He had a grim expression and a strange jacket. Through the slits in her eyes she noticed a marching band style jacket, black and white with black hair and eyes to match. He knelt in front of her and placed his hand on her head, his fingers cold almost like death itself. He spoke softly without a smile on his face he looked her in the eyes. "Theresa, I'm sorry it ends for you this way. You might live on but it will be painful and there's no way you will be independent again," he glanced behind him, looking at the intoxicated driver. "I know it seems unfair but that's why I'm here to give you a choice." Startled Theresa tried to move her hand to push him away but found herself unable. 

She was paralysed and realised that the reason she felt no pain was from the window frame sticking from her torso and no doubt through some of the spine. Terrified she tried to ask him who he was and how he knew her name but she couldn't move her lips and lay there on the road skin still stripped from the sides of her face. Expression still stone cold he looked at her sensing what she wanted to ask. "My name was Mikey, but it doesn't matter who I was or how I know who you are because you're time is coming to an end. There is very little reason that you will survive so I offer you a choice." 

Smile invisible to the world as lips refused to move she accepted. An ambulance pulled up and paramedics ran to the scene searching for a pulse as they bypassed the wreckage of the car and knelt beside the bike that only appeared to have Theresa's body sprawled out across it. As they attempted CPR she walked across the highway holding Mikey's hand as his expression remained cold, only a marching band jacket was slung across her shoulders as they left the highway lights dim and the night silent.


	3. Wet Plastic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suffering from mental illness James only wished for it all to end so he took matters into his hands. As he slipped into the bathtub a stranger appeared for him, offering him a decision that would change his motivations forever.

  Water spilled over white plastic as hands stuck up, poised with blood dripping down the wrists spilling into the water staining the tiles red. The still running taps kept the bath overflowing as bodies sunk to the bottom, face barely recognisable through the murky water and red sludge. Only black hair and pale wrists proof of body drowning in the waters. At first he screamed and struggled his body refusing to allow him to just drown. He knew that the razor blades might not finish the trick so the water was there to finish the job.

Maybe a part of him wanted to live otherwise he would have hung himself or jumped out of his flat window but his mental illness had consumed him and he didn't know how to live anymore. He felt trapped like he was drowning inside and maybe that's why he decided to drown himself. Or it could be completely unrelated, no one knew his motivation or why all they knew was that he had been in agony for years before this moment and yet no one had reached out to help him. So that's how he ended up with blood covered razor blades and soaked tiles at the bottom of a bathtub.

A rough hand grabbed his hair and pulled him out as he lay there gasping pleading to be thrust back under. When he opened his eyes he was shocked to see a stranger in his apartment. Black and white marching jacket covered in blood, his blood as he stood barefoot in the blood hands cold as a corpse with black lined eyes staring down at him.  
"Is this what you've been reduced to James? Razor blades and bathtubs?" Still shuddering from the rush of water and the slit wrists he spoke quietly. "Who are you? Why are you here and how do you know me?" His words forceful as tried to push the mans hand off of his head still begging for him to let him go. The stranger just smiled and shook his head, black hair falling in his eyes.   
"You want formalities? Alright my name was Frank and how I know you doesn't really matter now does it?" James settled as he stared up at him knowing exactly what he meant.

His eyes wide he asked Frank, "So then why are you here?" Frank just smiled still gripping his hair. "You have a decision to make James." James attempted to push his hands away once again until he resigned and gave his verdict. The stranger smiled as neighbours and landlords screamed at the door running into the bathroom, James' head already under the water as they ran through the empty room. They pulled his corpse from the water attempting CPR as he smiled and turned away with an arm around Frank and a black and white marching band jacket adorning his body and hiding his blood red wrists.


	4. Brittle Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homeless, Adam searched for hope desperately reaching out to anyone who passed by. He had not long and he was growing weary of living. As his hope started to fade he found two strangers that he might be able to cling to in a desperate attempt to save himself.

  Men and women alike stood tribute to the broken and beaten as they paved the sidewalk with their minimal belongings and rotting skin. The fecetal smell wafting from their torn clothes as they sat, hands out begging for something that they can drown their sorrows in. Be it drugs, alcohol or just food each one needed something and no one who walked past was willing to give to them. One such person sat amongst the buildings begging like all the rest. They needed money for drugs but not the kind one believed he needed. He didn't want a poison that would drag him down the end of a needle and pull him into the pit of further pain and despair. He needed a drug for HIV. One that was constantly shrouded in disgust and misconception. He was at the tether of his life and his hands shook, weak and frail as he prayed for just one more coin, just something that would give him that extra bit he needed. Something, anything that would save him from the feeling of his mind slipping through his fingers. Weak he knew he would never make it through the cold winters, through the starvation and the hunger. He knew that today may be his last and yet he clung onto hope so tight he never noticed his brittle fingers break underneath the weight of that tight rope, the rope of hope that was strangling him and only clouding his eyes as he fell into deaths arms.

Hands still trembling he screamed for help but no one was there to give it to him. He was only one homeless man in a city of many. He was a gay man with no home and no real value so no one stopped to help. Not one person apart from two peculiar men in black and white jackets. The one with short blonde hair smiled as he sat beside him, the other a large afro atop his head looked down at him and spoke softly.   
"Hello Adam. Don't worry, we won't hurt you. My name's Ray and that's my friend Bob beside you." Bob looked at him and smiled slightly as he looked at the alleyway Adam was nestled in.   
"Listen, you're dying and I think you know it don't you? Tell me, how much does it hurt?" Adam's voice trembled as he considered the question. How much did it hurt? It hurt more than anything he had ever known. Trying to open his mouth the words escaped him. He had lost his thought, he had already began to deteriorate and thoughts evaded him as he slipped further into madness. Bob simply shook his head as he stood up and turned away, Ray wrapping his hand around his arm he whispered to him and they both looked at Adam. Too tired to care he slumped over, ribs poking out from underneath a torn shirt. Thin skin stretched across brittle bones as his voice shook begging for them to save him. The men looked at him and smiled with pity. He felt as if they were mocking him but Ray turned to him and spoke quietly.

"You know this is futile isn't it? There's no point in fighting fate. Take my hand and come with me, you know what I offer. Will you accept?" Adam watched him and hands shaking he raised his arms and clutched onto the man's sleeve as he and Bob grabbed his tricep as each man hoisted him up. Finally finding his feet after a long time he took a steady step and walked hand in hand with Ray and Bob, only a marching band jacket adorning his chest as strangers stared at the body in the alleyway. A gay homeless man who died from AIDS, a man no one will miss and a man who finally found solace in the arms of two strangers as he left the world he resided within.


	5. The Means To An End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard and Mikey weary from their musician lifestyle wove their way through the hotel to find themselves at their room. Tired and exhausted they laid down their heads to find a stranger in their room. A stranger who had the answers to their problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a prequel to all previous chapters and is set before all others. Please note that all are unedited

The long dark hallways of a hotel at night stood silent as a quiet labyrinth leading the walker down past twisted corners and wrong hotel rooms with numbers glaring back at the viewer beckoning them towards their cages. Each one screaming out words unheard of the tragedies sated within their confines. Weary visitors stumbled through passing past each door until they found the one deemed as their own. With a sigh one such man opened his hotel room door and dragged his belongings inside his head hung low. Shuffling his feet inside he kicked off his shoes and lay down defeated by the laborious days he encountered. 

Belongings strung across the room he didn't even bother to unpack however, the knocking at his door came as a surprise. Creaking it open he was surprised to find his brother standing there. He had not expected him until much later as he was no doubt out drinking with the boys but, here he was standing in front of him asking to come in.   
"I've had a long day alright? Now where's your bag?" He pushed past him and into the room head hung low searching for his brothers bag.   
"It's over here Mikey. Oh and it's good to see you to." He pointed towards the bed and pulled out the black bag. Mikey ignored his brothers obvious sarcasm and pulled out a pill bottle from the side pocket.  
"Hey Gee, where's the rest of your stash?" Mikey examined the nearly empty bottle still searching the bag for the rest of the pills.  
"It's in the bathroom, but how many times do I have to say that you gotta save some for me." Gerard sighed and turned away from his brother. What was he doing with his life? It was sold out shows then drinks and drugs, and where would it end for them? 

He ignored his thoughts as he walked past Mikey whom was passed out from the pills he swallowed. Gerard sauntered into the bathroom and picked up the half empty bottle. He could have sworn it was unopened before Mikey broke into it but he was too exhausted to worry about that and his body craved the hit so he downed the rest. He dropped to the floor near Mikey as they lay there, costumes and clothes strewn about the room with empty pill bottles standing by their sides remnants of their choices laying as monuments to the pair who had gone downhill. The tours and the shows had broken them and the bottles lying on their sides stood as reminders of that. Mikey lay in a chair still shuddering from the pills as his brother curled his hand towards him, drifting in and out of consciousness. 

The two lay there side by side shaking from the overdose, mouths frothing as their body went into shock each one a mess laying there on the hotel floor. Mikey opened his eyes as best he could still slightly conscious not quite taking in or understanding the sight of his brother spasming beside him. As he tried to understand his situation, brain still clouded from the drugs, he saw the edge of a dress come into view. Attempting to call out all he could manage was choking sounds as he tried to lift his hand towards what he presumed to be a woman. A woman who was wearing a gas mask with long tangled hair. She tilted her head as she surveyed the men and noticed Mikey trying to call out to her. 

The rasps of tinned laughter came from behind the mask echoing out like a school intercom. She walked over to him and knelt beside him placing a hand on his neck. Trying to focus on her his head kept dropping to the side as he fought to remain conscious. He struggled with the words to ask who she was but instead of questions all he got was foam dripping down his chin. Her voice was cold and monotonous as she turned away and knelt before Gerard.   
"You don't have long Mikey so tell me, will you surrender or fight for time you don't have?" He watched her carefully as he stared down at his brother. Gerard now awake answered for them as the laughter of Frank, Ray and Bob echoed through the hallway and the slam of a door was heard as they entered the almost empty room. They sprinted towards the brothers dialling emergency services and searching for a pulse on either one as their fits subsided and Gerard and Mikey walked away hand in hand following the masked woman. With marching band jackets slung over their shoulders.


	6. Train Tracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prequel to chapters 1-4, this is set after chapter 5

Rain drizzled in the evening air solidifying the somber mood below as passerby's huddled past shops windows and down busy streets. One such man was adorned in a black suit, hair covering his eyes as he hung his head low. A group of young men across the street called out to him.  
"What are you going to a funeral dressed like that?" He could hear their snickers as he walked past ignoring the men.  
"I was talking to you, you emo faggot!" The man's head snapped upwards and his body twisted towards them. He had had enough of the abuse and finally snapped.  
"Actually I just came from a funeral so I apologise if my attire is too bleak for you." The men looked around awkwardly trying to laugh it off when one made another jab.  
"Oh yeah, was it your boyfriend you buried?" The men all laughed as they watched him state them down.  
"It was my best friend and his brother you pricks!" The rain masking his tears he heard the men try to play it cool as bystanders stared in disgust at the men each one shaking their head at them and casting sympathetic looks towards him. As he stormed away he heard his phone ring.

"Hello?" He answered as a man spoke on the other line.  
"Hi Frank, me and Bob are heading to a bar. You gonna join us?" Frank smiled slightly as he thought about drinking with the boys. That's when he remembered that Mikey and Gerard wouldn't be by his side. He answered deciding he needed this drink.  
"Of course Ray, I'll see you soon just gonna catch a train." Frank hung up the phone and walked towards the station his suit soaked from the rain and black hair dripping down his face.

The warmth of the station did very little to soothe him as he walked through it and towards the tracks, plunging his body back into the cold as he waited for the train to arrive occasionally catching a stare aimed his way. All he wanted was to avoid conflict, especially after burying his best friends and having to watch their lifeless bodies be lowered into the dirt in black coffins buried side by side. The glassy eyes of Gerard's corpse and the white hands of Mikey still flashed before his eyes as the train approached, white lights blinding him in confusion as he was unable to determine which was the fiction of the day's events and which was the reality of the train station. 

With the sounds of squealing wheels he found himself on the tracks. Frank was unsure whether he had jumped or simply fell but in the end it never really mattered to him, the train was still approaching far quicker than he could climb out. He had broken his leg on the tracks and lay there staring up at the sky as he heard the train approach. The only sound that stirred him from his resignation of his fate was a soft gasp nearby no doubt on the tracks with him. Surprised he angled his head to see someone standing beside him, someone he recognised instantly. His name sounded alien on Frank's tongue as he looked up at the man's white hair only whispering,   
"Gerard..." He could see tears in his companions eyes as he noticed the strange black and white jacket on his chest, a chest he could have sworn he buried in the dirt only hours prior. 

Tears stinging his eyes Frank reached up for Gerard, afraid to touch him in case this was all a dream and he would disappear as soon as he reached out. Instead he kneeled beside him and clutched his cold hands around Franks as he whispered in his ear.  
"I'm here now Frank, and I'm not leaving until the end. I promise I'm not leaving again unless you come with me. Please Frank, you have no where to go." Tears slipped down his cheeks as Frank watched the train approach. He wasn't afraid of death, he was afraid of losing Gerard again. Knowing what he had to do he clasped onto Gerard's sleeve and shut his eyes as the blinding lights of the train approached them with his hand wrapped around Gerard's as he whispered, "Together."


	7. Bury The Coffins

  Brown walls stood tall adorned with ugly paintings of birds and insects in a private office. Well it was a counsellors office as she sat across from a man with his head buried in his lap.  
"Ray? You should talk about it otherwise how else can I help you?" Ray glanced up as he tried to obscure the tears on his face. Talk about it? How was he supposed to tell her how he felt? His 2 best friends died less than a month ago. HE BURIED THEM TODAY!! How was he supposed to feel? He was torn inside. How could he possibly face his friends when the seat for Gerard and Mikey were missing? Deciding he had no more to say he forcibly ended their session and walked out the door. He always hated these evening sessions, they were a waste of time and he was supposed to meet Bob and Frank for a drink later and he would be pissed if she made him late again. 

He got a taxi to the pub. Well it was supposed to go to a pub but instead he got a phone call, from Frank.  
"Oh hey Frank where are you?"  
"Um hello, who is this? Is this uhh Ray?" Ray's face fell when he heard a stranger voice on the phone.   
"Yeah this is, who is this and where's Frank?"   
"I'm Dr. Jacobs we found a man on the tracks and the only identification still intact was this phone and a partial passport. Can you tell me Frank's full name and age and his relationship with you?"  
Oh god no no no no, NO! He just buried Mikey and Gerard he can't possibly sit through another funeral! Not Frank, please don't let it be Frank. It can't be.  
"Um I'm Ray Toro Frank's band member and best friend. Frank Iero is his uh full name and..." He choked down tears as he tried to force out Frank's age. "He's um 26 and I..." He broke down unable to control the tears.  
"Thank you Ray, could you make it to the hospital and please help us identify the body as Frank?"

Screaming at the taxi to change course he sped towards the hospital and walked through the doors feeling sick. He was going to throw up, he knew it. He choked down the bile and staggered towards the desk asking for Dr. Jacobs. The woman smiled and pointed him towards a waiting room. The same waiting room he sat in months prior waiting for Gerard and Mikey to walk out that door smiling and laughing, saying they were fine and there was no overdose and they would break their drug habit. This time he was wringing his hands waiting to March through and declare that the body wasn't Frank and that Frank was totally fine. I mean there's no way he could be dead, right? 

The doctor walked forwards and apologised profusely saying how he wouldn't do this unless he had to. Ray didn't really care about the doctors apologies, as long as Frank was okay. That's when they peeled back the curtain exposing a body. A suit torn apart, black as his hair which was tangled with blood, head crushed and smashed in, body twisted hands still stretching out towards something. Ray spilled the contents of his stomach as he realised this was Frank. Without a doubt Frank's lifeless body was in front of him. That couldn't be. Frank couldn't be dead. He talked to him less than 3 hours ago. 

Still shaking he walked out of the hospital. He couldn't do this, not anymore. They were trying to ask him questions about Frank. They were asking if it was suicide. How was he supposed to know!? But there was no possible way he could have jumped, could he? He loved Gerard but that's no reason to jump is it? He was feeling sick as he walked towards the parking lot. 

As he approached he heard the screech of tires, jumping out of the way he narrowly avoided the car. Sirens rang out as an ambulance approached. Looking over he saw them dragging someone out on a gurney. Someone he thought he recognised. Running towards them he stopped.   
"Multiple gunshot wounds to the chest and abdomen, lacerations to the torso and arms." He didn't understand the rest but all Ray knew was that lying there was Bob. Bob who he was supposed to meet with to drink. 

He ran after them screaming he was a friend of Bob as he ran to his side watching his head attempt to roll over as they kept his head still, eyes fluttering between sleep and consciousness. He grabbed his hand begging him to stay awake, praying he's okay. He can't go through this, not again. He can't keep watching his friends die, he just can't do this anymore. What could he possibly have done to deserve this? Clutching onto his hand he felt Bob weakly squeeze his hand as they ran to help him.  
"What happened?" Ray stammered as he stayed by Bob's side. A police woman was standing nearby.  
"We believe there was a robbery in the pub he was at and he was caught up in the gunfire. We found him bleeding out among smashed bottles." Ray started to weep he couldn't hold them back anymore. He was supposed to meet him there but instead he ended up by Frank's body. Oh god, did Bob even know about Frank? 

Bob fluttered open his eyes and spotted Ray. He smiled and said hello as Ray ran to his side. Ray had to tell him about Frank, he couldn't hide it anymore.  
"Oh Bob, they found Frank under a train. He's dead Bob, Dead!" He didn't want to send him into a panic but he had to know. He had to know before his pulse rose suddenly.

Bob lay there shaking trying to reach out to Ray unable to move his hands as he flopped to the side his hands stained with blood as the doctors and nurses ran around him. He looked at the corner of the room his blood running cold as he saw figures he recognised. Mikey and Gerard were watching him as Frank approached. Each one wearing a black and white marching band jacket. Tears staining his eyes he gasped and stared at Gerard and Mikey muttering the word dead over and over as he tried to say what he wanted to say to his friends. Frank smiled and stood beside the bed, his cold hands clasping his as he smiled back.   
"Hiya Bob. It's good to see you again." It seemed like forever since he heard Frank and Gerard laugh. It was an unbelievable sound, he didn't want it to stop and he could see Frank saw the pain in his eyes. Before Frank could open his mouth Bob muttered the words:  
"Of course." That's when he slipped into unconsciousness and the monitor flatlined after several attempts to steady his heart beat with the defibrillator. After 20 minutes they declared him clinically dead. 

Ray grabbed his hand as he knelt on the ground weeping. It was so unfair, all of his friends were gone. What was he supposed to do now? How could he possibly plan another funeral knowing that he'd have to bury all of his friends? 

The rest of his friends watched him sob as they stood in the room adorned in their black and white jackets, faces stained with tears as they watched Ray mourn. He was alone despite them being by his side. Bob tried to run to his friend as Gerard, Mikey and Frank dragged him away trying to comfort him.


	8. The Death of An Era

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray finds himself yearning for his friends, refusing to attend a funeral service he finds himself trapped inside his home refusing to leave and face the truth of his situation he wants nothing more than to be with his friends. He feels alone and isolated, trapped in tall walls as his time comes to a close.

Dirty clothes littered filthy floors as garbage was strewn across the small apartment. Lying face down amongst the filth was a man in last weeks clothes and hair he brushed three weeks ago. Voicemails rang out through the apartment.  
"Hiya Ray, it's Lyn. Just calling you to remind you that it's Bob and Frank's funeral tomorrow. Me and bandit will be there, are you coming? We're worried about you." Ray lay on the floor eyes burning from exhaustion. He hadn't slept in 3 days and hadn't showered once since Bob and Frank's death which was 3 weeks ago. He didn't know if he could face the funeral, he couldn't bare to think about either Bob or Frank lying in a coffin. To have Gerard's wife and child there would only make it worse. What could he possibly say to comfort them? They lost everything and yet were trying to make sure he was alright. He couldn't let them take responsibility they didn't deserve. He felt drained, he couldn't stand or even walk out the door much less put on a suit and get to a church. The same suit that he buried Gerard and Mikey in. How could he POSSIBLY even face that again? The pain was unbearable. So unbearable in fact that he believes that's how Frank died. He must have thrown himself onto the tracks, after all Frank did love Gerard with everything he had. 

Ray felt like he didn't have a right to complain, there were others whose husband or father was dead, who's uncle had died and then their good friends, dead brother in law, dead best friends. He couldn't possibly compete with what Lyn and Bandit lost, and yet they seemed to be doing better than him. Maybe it was because his best friends had all died only weeks apart. How was he supposed to deal with everything? He had slipped into a deep depression and there was no way he was going to be able to make it to the funeral. It's not that he couldn't find the time, it's just that he couldn't the will or motivation. He hadn't eaten for days and he stomach screamed at him for food but he was too tired to sleep. He lay awake at night not able to close his eyes and every time he did all he saw was Gerard and Mikey rolling on the ground, or Frank's dismembered body or Bob's corpse full of holes and stab wounds. He never slept unless he had to because it hurt too much. There's only so many times you can relive the moment of your friends death before you break. His rent was well behind but the landlord didn't want to kick him out because he knew what Ray was going through. He couldn't possibly send a grieving man out on the streets after such a man had lost 4 people very close to him. The deaths of which had left him empty inside.

This feeling of nothingness consumed him, at him whole as he fell into the deep abyss of despair and depression. Each day shaking from exhaustion, each week getting less than two hour of sleep a night, eyes too tired to sleep, stomach too empty to feed. He almost never ate anymore or slept and showers were a no go. He hadn't eaten anything in three days and he could feel his stomach consuming itself in starvation but he no longer had the capacity to care. He could not care if he lived or died in fact, he wished for death but he was too tired to kill himself. He was tired of living but far too tired to die. His friends watched from the silence of the room as each one saw him slip further into madness, vomit staining his clothes and floor. Empty beer cans stashed throughout the grimy apartment as they stood invisible to his eyes each one watching in utter despair praying for the day that he gets better. Every single person he lost held their breath every time they saw him for he was the worst sight of all. It was so easy to die. They could rest but they saw Ray and knew that it was so much harder to live especially when all you're friends are dead. He was starving himself to death and ridding his body of all sleep. He had not much longer to last and each person in that room knew it. 

Laying face down Ray continued to pray for death as Mikey watched him lips pressed together waiting for the others, Gerard grabbing his arm as if in comfort. Frank clutched onto Gerard refusing to let go as they all held their breath, waiting in silence. Bob sat beside him as Ray closed his eyes. He was done with it all and prayed he never woke up from this sleep. Except a voice jarred him as he heard the unmistakable voice of Bob calling his name, cold fingers wrapped around his arm as Ray opened his eyes and looked for the man calling his name finally finding him sat beside him. Ray inched away from him eyes wide as he glanced from Bob and to Frank still holding onto Gerard. This must've been a dream, there's no way they could be here but Mikey shook his head as he turned away and glanced towards the wall. Frank smiled a lopsided grin and turned towards him.  
"Nice place you got here." Frank's cheap shot at a joke did little to impress Ray as he stared at all of his friends, empty pill bottle in his hand. There was pills scattered across the room as he watched them shaking slightly as his eyelids threatened to close for eternity. Hands shaking in shock he grabbed onto Bob's jacket and smiled. Without a word he lay back down, a permanent smile etched in his face as he lay face down on the dirty floor with only an empty bottle in his hand. The sound of silence filling the room as the group of friends gathered around one another, Bob stepping away and holding onto Ray as they all walked away in black and white marching band jackets. Smiling for the first time in a long time Frank, Ray, Bob, Gerard and Mikey walked arms around each other away from the apartment and towards their final destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! This is the final chapter of Death Of Our Friends. I hope you enjoyed it


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